


little bo-pete

by orphan_account



Series: tales of little bo-pete [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Age Regression, Fluff, From under the cork tree era, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, idk it's just kinda soft, little!Pete, littlespace, patrick is only mentioned really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Our Little Bo-Pete was no Little Bo-Anything for many years, until 2005, when he regressed for the first time, and he ended up desperate to know everything there was to know about it, and, more importantly, to do it again.[a/n: ok hi i know not many people are gonna like. read this but uh imma post it anyway. i also know there's a chance that my mutuals on twitter might find this and recognize me (oh, would that be fun), but i really need to vent about/during my littlespace in some way, and what better way to do that than through fanfiction, yknow? anyway, if yall dont wanna read it u shouldnt so uh just keep scrollin, idk dkshdksh. i do appreciate if u did wanna read it and give me feedback, maybe?? whatever. that's up to u. if u do read, then thanks in advance!]





	little bo-pete

**Author's Note:**

> howdy, guess who's back with another shitty oneshot? i might make this a series of peterick fluff, idk, it really just depends on if people even choose to read this at all. i guess we'll see dbskdjd. in the meantime tho, i hope u enjoy reading the fic if u've gotten this far!

Tonight is just one of many lonesome nights where sleep is nothing more than a distant memory, and Pete finds himself running out of words to write on the blank pages in front of him. This happens plenty during his nights spent touring. He sits in his bunk, bored out of his mind. This is basically routine now. There's something different about tonight, though, and he can feel it. Everything is the same, and yet it isn't. It's different in a mysterious way, one that he can feel, but can't recognize.

For some random reason, "I Just Can't Wait To Be King," from the Lion King is now stuck in his head, so he quietly hums the rhythm to himself. It comes out different than expected; higher pitched, more childlike, and it sends Pete into a fit of giggles, which he puts a hand over his mouth to silence. Seriously, what the heckie is going on right now?

Wait.

Why did he just think 'heckie' instead of hell, or whatever he wanted to think? What is happening to him? Did someone drug him? What kind of drug would that even be?

He suddenly remembers that he has a big, fluffy teddy bear in his suitcase in case he needs to snuggle with something in the middle of the night, and he immediately lights up. He got the old teddy bear when he was a kid, and had named it Mr. Fluffles (creative, I know). He quickly proceeds to dig the stuffed bear out of his bag, and pulls it into his arms in a tight hug. He may not know what his brain is trying to do right now, but it's actually not the worst thing in the world. It's just a little strange, is all. Before he can even think about it, his thumb is in his mouth, and he doesn't move it once it's there, but he does happily take it between his teeth and gently suckle on it. That's something he never thought he would do in this scenario he never thought he would end up in, as, you know, a grown ass adult, but it turns out to be way more relaxing than he ever would've expected it to be.

Everything sort of flows naturally from there. He wraps his arm around the stuffie's neck (don't worry, it isn't hurting him), and picks up his pencil with his other hand to start doodling on the empty page his notebook is opened to. He draws and draws, and he wants to go to the store tomorrow to buy some crayons to color it all in with. He can't show them to anyone if they aren't masterpieces, and the only way they're gonna be masterpieces is if they're all colored in.

Pete doesn't stop drawing for a long time. He draws dogs, and cats, and cars, and trucks, and spiders, and Mr. Fluffles, and himself, and Andy, and Joe, and Patrick, and lots of other things too. He only stops drawing when he's about to pass out, and his mind is foggy and he feels more at peace than he has in a long time. He leans back against his pillow and lets his hand fall away from his face, thumb coated in drool. "G'night Mr. Fwuffles..." he whispers in a voice that barely resembles his own. "I wovooo..." Whatever this is, he's pretty sure he never wants it to end.

Unfortunately, it does end, when his alarm goes off what feels like days later. He slept better than he has in a long time even though it was only 3 hours, and dreamt of all sorts of baby-ish things. He looks over at his notebook, his brain still clouded from sleep, and makes a mental note to go to the store today to buy crayons and (possibly) a coloring book. They're staying at a hotel tonight. Pete has just enough cash to pay for a room of his own out of pocket, because he wants to figure out what the fuck that was, why the fuck it happened, and, hopefully, how to do it again.

He gets himself cleaned up and packs all his things into his suitcase, ready to bring to his hotel room once they get there. He decides against telling any of his friends what he had experienced last night, and spends all day zoning out constantly, just thinking about it more in depth. He doesn't have a single conversation today where he hears and comprehends every single thing the other person says to him, and the show? Total flop on his part, in the beginning, at least. A few songs into the set, he finally is able to distract himself, and gets caught in his usual rhythm, which is exactly what he needs right about now.

After the show ends, he scrambles to do everything he needs to before he can finally go to his room for the night and figure this all out. He has his laptop, his teddy bear, the superhero coloring book he bought at the store, and an unopened box of crayons resting on the bed as a reminder that this is his best chance to sort this shit out, so he can't back down.

When Pete finally sits down on the bed, he sighs to himself in relief. Before his brain wanders too far, he reaches for the laptop, places it carefully on his lap and opens it as he leans back against the headboard. He doesn't get too comfy before he realizes he wants to have his teddy bear next to him while he researches, so he leans forward again and grabs it, pulls it up beside him. Then Pete's quest for information begins.

Over half of the night spent online, Pete discovers many things. Most importantly, he learns that he experienced what is commonly referred to as either 'age regression' or 'littlespace,' which basically means that he had reverted back to the mentality of a child, and that it's often triggered by high stress levels in certain people, though it can be willinglly induced. It's not unhealthy, it's apparently just the way his brain copes with stress and anxiety, so it isn't bad, and it isn't hurting anybody. It's fine, and anyway, it's not like anybody ever has to know, unless he's desperate for a caregiver, which only time will tell.

He finally closes his laptop, and glances over at the clock on the nightstand next to him right as the numbers change from 12:59 to 1:00. He has a lot of hours to spare before Patrick or Andy knocks on the door and tells him to "get up, we're leaving in an hour, and we won't hesitate to leave your ass behind!" so he decides he might as well try some of the strategies he read online to get into littlespace.

Before he does that, though, he sneaks out of the hotel to run to Walmart for the second time that day. He figures they have stuff he can use for good prices, and he still has $30 to spare. He buys himself a set of 2 pacifiers, a blue sippy cup with astronauts decorated onto it, a rattle, apple juice, and a small bag of gummies with his hood up, as to not be recognized.

Once he's back to his room, he sets the bag down on the nightstand and pulls out the sippy cup and apple juice to pour some for himself. Then he sits on the bed and opens the coloring book to a random page with Spiderman on it and takes out a red crayon to start coloring with. He also has Mr. Fluffles situated right up against him, and fuck, this is working already. He's not tired at all. In fact, he's actually super bouncy and wants to go to a park and play.

Pete bounces on his heels as he colors his Spiderman in, but then he gets a brilliant idea. "Mr. Fwuffles, what if we were superheroes?" he giggles to himself and adds, "Or should I say... Super Fwuffles??" He takes all his stuff off the bed, then lays all the pillows and blankets on the ground by the foot of the bed. "This is gonna be epic, Super Fwuffles! Jus' watch dis!!" He crawls to the foot of the bed and jumps off towards the ground. His landing doesn't hurt, because it's just a bunch of pillows and blankies on the ground. Actually, he bursts into a fit of giggles and stands, picking up his friend and tossing him off the bed. He does this over and over and over again too many times for him to count.

The next thing he knows, there's knocking on the door, and he's groggily opening his eyes. He's on the floor, he has a paci in his mouth, a sippy cup half filled with apple juice across the blanket, and he and Mr. Fluffles are all caught up in it. "Pete, you better get up or I'm breaking the fuckin' door down," Pause. "Get up, you fucker!" He hears Patrick outside the door. He's not sure how he would go about explaining the mess of blankets on the floor to Patrick, so he just shouts, even though it gets muffled through the blankets, that he's awake, and Patrick leaves at that.

Pete is definitely okay with this. He's reeeaaaaally okay with this.


End file.
